From the Ashes
by ExceedinglyPeculiarChick
Summary: Oh, boy! It's another "nineteen years later" fic! First in what will probably turn out to be a series. This covers everything from after the battle to having James. Harry/Ginny, accompanied by the rest of the Weasleys. T to be safe.
1. New Beginnings

Harry clambered through the portrait hole, Ron and Hermione on his heels. He was grateful for Hermione's fingers gripping the bck of his shirt to keep him steady on his feet. Emotionally drained and exhausted, the only thing that kept him going was a delightful vision of his own warm, soft bed.

The common room was empty, the lamps dark, no fire crackling in the grate. The evidence of the battle strewn over the rest of the castle wasn't present here; clearly the fighting hadn't reached this far.

Ron collapsed into an armchair in front of the empty fireplace. He had a deep gash on his cheek and one sleeve of his jacket had been torn away, revealing several more deep cuts. But what worried Harry most was the gaunt, vacant look in his best friend's sunken eyes—he recognized it all too well as grief. He locked eyes with Hermione over the top of Ron's chair and mouthed, "Look after him, will you?"

She nodded and went over to sit on the arm of the chair. As Harry turned towards the door that led to the boys' dormitories, he saw her take Ron's hand.

••••••••

Dazzling sunlight was filtering into the room when Harry awoke. He fumbled for his glasses on the table beside him; finally, having gotten them on, he rolled over and glanced at the large clock on the wall. It was ten minutes to eleven. Figuring he'd better get down to the Great Hall and eat something, he threw back his blankets and climbed out of bed.

He had fallen asleep in his dirty, sweat-soaked, bloodstained shirt and jeans, yet he still felt too emotionally numb to care about his appearance. He entered the common room to find Ron and Hermione curled up in the same chair, arms wrapped around each other as if they were afraid to let go.

Hermione's head jerked up as Harry entered the room; she gave him a slightly guilty smile as she looked first at Ron and then back to Harry.

Harry grinned. "About bloody time, yeah?"

"Shut up," she said, grinning back.

"I was going to go downstairs, get something to eat," said Harry. "Do you and Ron want to come along?"

Ron looked up quickly. "I want to eat!"

Harry laughed, while Hermione swatted him playfully on the shoulder and said, "Of course you think of food, Ron."

"Well, I'm starving," muttered Ron, blushing furiously.

"Come on, you lot. Let's get down there," said Harry, interrupting their bickering.

They filed out into the corridor, which was strewn with bits of rubble; the great gilded frames that had once held pictures along this corridor lay in heaps on the ground, and the Fat Lady's empty portrait was hanging on a single hinge. Chunks of the ceiling had fallen in, leaving gaping holes through which shafts of sunlight shone. As they made their way downstairs, the amount of debris got progressively larger.

Harry was helping Hermione climb over an enormous piece of the balustrade from the great marble staircase in the Entrance Hall when Ron spoke. "Blimey, it really is over, isn't it?"

"No, Ron," said Harry sarcastically, catching Hermione before she could hit the ground, "this was all a dream. Actually, now you mention it, I do feel rather like I'm dreaming at the moment."

"See what I mean?" asked Ron, grinning.

"That reminds me, Ron—I'm so sorry about Fred—" Harry began.

Ron held up a hand to stop him. "I don't think Fred would have wanted us to be moping around over his death. It's not your fault, so quit talking about it—and besides, I'm sure you'll want to focus on other things at the moment."

"What 'other things' could you be referring to?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Oh, nothing—just my little sister he's about to go snog."

"Shut up, mate."

"Shutting."

••••••••

The Great Hall was crammed with people; it looked much the same as it had a few hours ago when Harry had left it. Professor Sinistra and Madam Pomfrey were helping the palomino centaur Firenze move into a more comfortable position. Professors Sprout, Vector, and Slughorn were sitting together, heads bowed and talking in low tones. Lavender and Parvati were leaving the hall with Professor Trelawney.

Before Harry could turn to Ron and Hermione and ask where they were headed, Professor McGonagall came hurrying over.

"Harry, Miss Weasley was looking for you just a moment ago."

"Oh, Merlin—thanks, Professor—I'd better go, I wouldn't want to be on the recieving end of one of her Bat-Bogey Hexes…"

She gave him a knowing smile, patted him on the shoulder, and strode off.

Harry turned back to his friends. "Shall we go and look for them, then?"

"Yeah," said Ron and Hermione simultaneously. The three of them joined hands so they wouldn't lose each other, then stepped forward into the throng of people.

It took at least five minutes to simply navigate the hall, what with so many people being there. They finally managed to reach the Gryffindor table; all three of them hunted along the length of it for a glimpse of ginger hair.

It was Ron who saw them first. "There—right there—sitting down that end, d'you see them?"

They made their way down the aisle until they reached the rest of the Weasleys. Harry saw Fleur leaning her head on Bill's shoulder, and Percy with an arm slung around George, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley holding hands. But all of this registered in a very small, distant region of his brain—the majority of his thoughts were focused on Ginny.

She twisted in her seat at the sound of footsteps behind her; before he had a chance to react, she was on her feet and running toward him with the same fierce, blazing look in her brown eyes that she had a million years ago in the common room. Without caring that there was a whole hall full of people watching—two of whom were Ginny's parents—Harry caught her mid-stride, took her face in his hands, and kissed her.

It didn't matter that everything they knew had been obliterated—the only thing that mattered to Harry right now was the feel of Ginny's lips on his, and the sweet scent of her flaming hair, and the promise of a new life born, like a phoenix, from the ashes of the old. 


	2. Mischief Managed

Harry woke up on the Burrow's living room sofa three days later. He felt awkward, seeing as he normally slept in Ron's room, but Hermione had gone up there with him last night and never come back down…

"Quit thinking like that," he told himself firmly. He was becoming Mrs. Weasley all of a sudden. His friends were fine on their own.

"Harry, I'm here if you need to talk. When you're in a house with so many older brothers, you get to the point where you don't do anything potentially embarrassing, like talking to your own head."

Harry looked up, startled, to see Ginny at the bottom of the stairs, still in pajamas. "Merlin, you scared me!"

"Boo," said Ginny teasingly, and Harry pretended to be frightened by jumping off the makeshift bed.

"So why are you up so early?" he asked, when they had both finally stopped laughing.

Ginny's face turned solemn at once. "Fred's funeral is today."

••••••••

The small grove of trees at the foot of the hill was packed with people; Fred's funeral was nearly over. The only thing remaining was George's speech.

As George stepped up to the podium, Harry looked over at Ginny and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. He knew how close she'd been to Fred, and how hard his death was for her to cope with.

George cleared his throat and looked around at the silent crowd. "Fred Weasley was like a brother to me."

Everyone laughed—leave it to a Weasley to make even the most somber event funny. George smiled and went on.

"There are many words I could use to describe him—noble, brave, fiercely overprotective of our little sister—" he said, shooting Harry a look, "—but I think I'll sum him up in just three: transportable corridor swamp.

"Fred wouldn't have wanted us to be crying over his death. In fact, in some distant place, he's probably thinking of ten thousand ways this funeral could have been more…well, for lack of a better word, fun. Those may or may not include veela, dragon racing, secretly watching Percy dancing in the shower, or forcing Ron to make an Unbreakable Vow that he will use the word 'brobdingnagian' in every single sentence for the rest of his life.

"To make a long story short, I want you to remember Fred Weasley as a man who went out with a—"

BANG.

The assembled crowd jumped at the loud noise, looking around wildly for the source. Harry leapt to his feet and drew his wand, as did a half-dozen others. He was thinking of attacking Death Eaters who had somehow managed to get past the precautionary defensive spells and gate-crash a funeral, when a pink-and-silver-winged piglet floated past him.

He looked up, startled, to see that the sky was full of fireworks. Dragons roared, rockets flew, and Catherine wheels whizzed lethally through the air; and above it all, a silver sparkler was twisting itself into words high above them:

Fred Weasley

April 1, 1978—May 2, 1998

Mischief Managed

••••••••

A/N: I'm REALLY, REALLY sorry for the short chapter, but I have Spanish finals tomorrow and I am officially in insane review mode. I felt like I needed to give you guys an update, though, since I'd much rather be on here than trying to remember it's "llamo" and not "llama".

Did I mention that I have the Llama Song stuck in my head? Yeah, that makes it pretty hard.

So, anyway, I have a few new one-shots planned and a couple chapters on this story almost ready to post. It should be an interesting couple of weeks!

Love, EPC


	3. Being with Her

Harry was curled up in an armchair in the Burrow's living room, Ginny snuggled in his lap. The rest of the family was all scattered around the room, involved in various pursuits; night lay over the house like a cozy blanket. As he looked around at the assembled members of the Weasleys, he felt an inexplicable sense of happiness. He was, for the first time in his life, at home.

Ron and Hermione were sitting side by side on the sofa, whispering to each other. Every now and then, something Ron said would make Hermione laugh aloud, and Harry smiled at the sight of them.

"It's about bloody time," he muttered to Ginny.

She followed his gaze, then grinned. "He's allowed to give us permission, but I don't have a say in who he snogs?" She looked back at Harry, startled. "Have they?"

"Snogged? Er—yeah, in the Room of Requirement, right before the battle."

Ginny shook her head in mock despair, a smirk curving her lips mischieviously. "Perfect timing," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Leave it to Ron," said Harry.

He looked up, startled, when he heard a fist pounding on the door. He made as if to rise, but Molly beat him to it.

"Stay where you are, dear, I'll get it. Besides, I wouldn't want to disturb…you two." Blushing, she hurried out of the room.

Ginny rolled her eyes, instantly silencing the sniggers from her older brothers. "This has to stop. Anyone who thinks that this" —she held up her and Harry's interlaced fingers— "is some kind of joke will meet something worse than even my Bat-Bogey Hex."

"Honestly, Gin, how is that even possible?" asked Bill from where he was sitting with Fleur's head in his lap, idly playing with her hair.

"Really, Bill, I never thought you were that thick. I just spent a year at Hogwarts with three Death Eaters running around the school, using the Cruciatus Curse on kids right, left, and center—I was one of them—don't you think I needed a better defense than a Bat-Bogey Hex?"

"They used the Cruciatus Curse on you?" asked Percy, looking scandalized. "Our baby sister?"

"First of all, Perce," said Ginny exasperatedly, "I'll be seventeen in about two months. I'm not a baby, thanks very much. Two, yes, they used the Cruciatus Curse on me, and it actually felt rather good to be treated as an equal to the boys. Neville says he lost count after about ten detentions…"

"Harry?" Molly asked, poking her head around the living room door. "We have a visitor—is it all right if I bring her in here with everyone else?"

"I see no reason why not," said Harry, curious. Who could be calling at this hour of night, and why was Molly asking his permission when it was her house?

Before his lips could form the words, Andromeda Tonks stepped into the living room. The dim lamplight caused her face to be thrown into shadow, making her resemblance to her sister Bellatrix remarkably more pronounced, In her arms, she bore a tiny bundle that Harry knew must be Teddy, and a loaded bag was hanging from her elbow. Her face was flushed, as though she had just run a great distance. Harry frowned—something was terribly wrong.

"What is it, Andromeda?" he asked concernedly, sitting up in his chair.

"No time to explain," she gasped. "Can you all watch Teddy for a few days? There's—something I need to do."

"I—yeah, sure!" said Harry, rising from the chair and taking the bag from her arm.

Andromeda pressed Teddy into Molly's outstretched arms, apologizing profusely all the while. When she had finally finished going over the basics with all of them, she turned on the spot and vanished with a CRACK.

Harry looked up at Molly, back to Ginny, and around at the others gathered in the room. "What was that all about?"

"I've no idea," said Ron, "but maybe it's got to do with that good-for-nothing sister of hers and her slimy git of a son—"

"Ronald!" chastised Molly, gently rocking Teddy back and forth. "Be nice!"

"But, Mum—"

"Enough, Ron," she hissed, and Harry thought he saw Ron recoil slightly at her growing anger. She swept from the room, clutching Teddy, and did not return.

"You think it's got something to do with Narcissa, then?" asked Hermione once Molly had gone. "I've heard nothing about the Malfoys since the battle."

"Well, Lucius was bound to get thrown into Azkaban at some point. Maybe that's what happened, and 'Dromeda's just trying to offer Narcissa and Draco some help," Charlie said calmly from where he was draped across the top of the sofa.

"Fair point, although if the two of them get caught, they're dead. They pretty much abandoned Voldemort in the end…" said Harry thoughtfully.

"'Oo knows?" asked Fleur, examining the neat braid Bill had made in her hair. "Eet eez out of our 'ands, non?"

"Very true, pretty girl," sighed Bill. "Very true."

••••••••

Arthur walked into the kitchen the next morning, carrying the Daily Prophet. He tossed it down on the table, slumped into a chair, and rubbed his eyes wearily. "I hate getting up early."

"What's the matter?" asked Percy, leaning over to read the headline. Harry looked over his shoulder to see CONVICTED DEATH EATERS SENT TO AZKABAN emblazoned in three-inch letters on the page.

"Did you go in early to get this?" asked Ginny, examining the article carefully.

Arthur nodded. "Hot off the presses."

It was at this moment that Molly served breakfast, sending a jug of pumpkin juice crashing down on a picture of Antonin Dolohov's sneering face. Eagerly, they all began to pile their plates with food. For a while, there was nothing but the sounds of forks scraping against plates and paper crackling as Arthur thumbed through the Prophet.

"Where's George?" asked Ron through a mouthful of toast.

"Ever since the funeral, he's been locked away in his room, writing letters. I have no idea who he's writing to, though," said Bill quietly.

"Hopefully it's—oh!" said Molly suddenly, for another knock had just sounded at the door. "Surely Andromeda can't be back yet?"

"I'll get it this time," said Harry, pushing back his chair. He wound his way through the maze of seats to the living room, past the comfy armchair where he and Ginny had been sitting last night, and to the front door.

As he pulled it wide open, he came face-to-face with none other than Angelina Johnson.

"Hi," she said, rather breathlessly. "I need to talk to George."

••••••••

SORRY for the super long wait, guys. I have FIVE days left of school, and then I'll give you guys something new at least every few days, if not sooner. Also, this may seem like a meandering and plotless chapter, but it has to be here. You'll see why later. *wink wink* 


	4. Lazy Day

Harry blinked, rather startled by Angelina's directness, but recovered himself quickly. "Er—right, he's this way."

"Thanks, Harry," she said, and followed him into the house.

He was a bit bemused by her sudden appearance, until something suddenly clicked into place. He remembered Bill's remark at breakfast just a few moments before, about George writing several letters to a recipient unknown to the rest of the family. As he began to climb the stairs, he asked, "Have you been writing to George?"

"Yeah," Angelina said, blushing slightly. "He's been pretty down since the funeral, so I figured I'd come up here and knock some sense into him."

"I wish you luck," muttered Harry, stopping outside George's door. "There you go."

"Great. Thanks again."

"No problem."

Harry took the stairs two at a time and slid back into his seat at the breakfast table. He explained to everyone what had just happened.

"So that's who he's been writing to lately," said Molly, a satisfied note in her tone. "Poor dear—he's been so sad. I hope she manages to cheer him up."

"So, what are you lot going to do today?" Arthur asked, laying his newspaper aside.

"I think Fleur and I will probably go home, if that's okay. We haven't been since the battle," said Bill, wrapping an arm around Fleur.

"'Mione and I need to pack," Ron remarked, reaching for a second helping of toast. "We're leaving for Australia in two days to go get her parents."

"Her parents?" asked Percy, a quizzical expression on his face.

"She did a Memory Charm on them before we left so that Voldemort couldn't torture them for information. They've no idea they even have a daughter," explained Ron.

"I hope you find them, dear," said Molly, patting Hermione comfortingly on the shoulder. "Is someone from the Ministry going with you?"

"Probably an Auror, but Kingsley expressed an interest in coming, too."

As the rest of the family continued the conversation, Harry turned to Ginny and whispered, "What about us? What should we do today?"

"I don't know. Maybe a picnic, or something with just the two of us," she murmured back.

They were startled by the sound of chairs scraping back—everyone had finished their food and was headed for their respective activities.

"Everyone out of the house except for Ron and Hermione," shouted Molly above the din, "Teddy's going to need a nap later."

••••••••

At two o'clock that afternoon, Harry left the Burrow with Ginny and a packed picnic basket in tow. Their destination was nearby Stoatshead Hill—a peaceful, secluded destination where they were sure not to be bothered.

As they reached the top of the hill, a warm breeze played across Harry's face. He reached over and took Ginny's hand as they settled down on the cushy grass.

Ginny looked at him curiously, a smirk playing on her lips. "You're smiling like a bloody idiot, Harry. Why so happy all of a sudden?"

Harry laughed. This was one of the things he loved about Ginny—she told it like she saw it. "I'm happy because I'm with you, Gin. I'm always happiest when you're here."

"I could say the same," she said quietly. "When you were…gone, it took an enormous effort just to drag myself out of bed every day. I didn't even want to live anymore. It was like you'd taken half of me with you, and I could barely even read the newspapers every day for fear that I'd see you—"

Harry interrupted her sentence by leaning over and kissing her. "Don't think about it. It's over, and it's never going to happen again, I swear."

They sat in silence for a while, holding hands and watching the clouds drift across the sky.

Finally, Ginny spoke again, changing the subject. "What were you lot doing the whole time you weren't at Hogwarts?"

Harry sighed. "I suppose I'm going to have to tell you sooner or later, aren't I?"

"Of course you are, or I'll get Hermione to tell me."

"All right. So, remember how Dumbledore kept giving me those private lessons in my sixth year? He was explaining Voldemort's past to me so that I could better understand the prophecy. Then we got to talking about something called a Horcrux—"

"Oh," breathed Ginny. "Mum told us about those once. She said they were really awful Dark magic, and we should never mess with them. Did Voldemort have one?"

"Actually, he had seven. Let's see…well, first of all, there was the diary—you remember that diary you had in your first year that was possessing you?—and his snake, Nagini, she was one; there was a ring that belonged to his mother's family; a locket of Salazar Slytherin's; Helga Hufflepuff's cup, and Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem."

Ginny ticked off the Horcruxes on her fingers as Harry listed them; when he finished, she said, "But that's only six. What was the seventh one?"

In answer, Harry pulled back his bangs to show Ginny the lightning scar. "Me."

Ginny's eyes widened in horror. "You? So—is that why—"

"He couldn't kill me," said Harry simply. "When he 'killed' me, he destroyed the bit of his soul that was living inside me, and that was why I was able to kill him."

"Did it hurt?" she asked. "Being hit with the Killing Curse?"

Harry pulled his shirt up to show a blossoming purple-and-black bruise over his heart. "It's strange, because 'Avada Kedavra' doesn't usually leave any sign of damage. I suppose it's got something to do with the Horcrux, honestly."

"I had no idea," Ginny whispered, horrified. "Harry, that's—"

"Gin," he said firmly, "it's over. There's nothing to worry about anymore. My first priority now will always be you."

Harry pulled her closer to him, and she rested her head against his chest. He breathed in deeply—he had forgotten the beautiful floral scent of her hair and the way her fingers interlaced with his.

As a shaft of sunlight emerged from behind a cloud, turning Ginny's hair to flame, he murmured, "I love you, Ginny Weasley."

••••••••

A/N: I love writing fluffy chapters. They're so much fun. :) Anyway, school's out for me this Friday, so my schedule will be a lot more flexible for writing. Expect chapter 5 to be up at some point this week. Also, no, I haven't forgotten Teddy and Andromeda—those storylines will pop up in the next few chapters.

Abandoning her writing for now to go chase after an ooh-something-shiny,

EPC 


	5. Aurors

Three months had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, and the Wizarding world was repairing itself from Voldemort's reign of terror. News arrived daily from far away and close to home as Harry and his friends began their adult lives.

Harry and Ron had both elected not to return to Hogwarts to complete their seventh year; after several long conversations with Kingsley, they'd decided to begin Auror training. Hermione and Ginny would both be going back to school for seventh year, after which Hermione planned to follow a career in Magical Law.

It was the morning of August twelfth, the day after Ginny's seventeenth birthday, and Harry was asleep in Ron's room. Having stayed up late into the night, toasting and laughing and talking, he was completely exhausted. He rolled over in bed, buried his head in his pillow, and tried to ignore the sounds of doors slamming and feet pounding downstairs.

Suddenly, he heard something he couldn't ignore—a loud, shrill scream echoing throughout the house. He sat up in bed, seized his wand, and slammed his glasses onto his face hard enough to leave a rather painful bruise. Casting the blankets aside, he threw open the door and sprinted onto the landing.

Harry saw George one flight of stairs below, an equally startled expression on his face. Before he could even open his mouth to ask George what was going on, Ron came bursting from the bathroom, toothbrush in hand and still in pajamas.

"Who screamed?" they all asked one another at the same time.

"Oh, my God, you lot are never going to believe this!" someone shouted from the ground floor. It was Ginny, leaping up the stairs two at a time, her face alight with happiness, waving a piece of parchment aloft. "I got in!"

"What do you mean, 'got in'?" asked George before Harry could speak. "Got in where?"

"The Harpies! The Holyhead Harpies!" Ginny shrieked. "They want me as a starting Chaser next season!"

"What?" Harry, Ron, and George chorused incredulously.

"I know, right? And I haven't even finished school! But Gwenog Jones," said Ginny, unfolding the parchment, "wrote me this morning. Apparently some scout came to watch one of our Quidditch games at some point."

"Doesn't hurt that you're related to Charlie, either," said George, scanning the letter over Ginny's shoulder. "Congratulations, sis."

George and Ron headed downstairs, leaving Harry and Ginny alone on the landing.

"We seem to be getting left alone a lot lately," Ginny said, echoing his thoughts. She crossed to Harry and wrapped her arms around him.

Harry returned the hug. "You're going to be leaving me alone soon, too."

"We'll write so many letters, Pig won't be able to keep up. And I'll send you and Ron a toilet seat at work."

He laughed. "Kingsley would get a kick out of that, I'm sure."

••••••••

September first seemed to come quickly, and it seemed no time at all to Harry before he was taking Ginny to King's Cross and seeing her onto the Hogwarts Express. As the scarlet steam engine chugged away, steam billowing behind it in a rolling cloud, he felt odd, as if part of him were missing. He turned to Ron (who had come as well to see Hermione off) to see a vacant expression on his face.

"Mate. Ron. Ronald Weasley, can you hear me?"

Ron snapped back to attention. "Whoa, sorry. I just… spaced out, I guess. It's hard knowing that I won't see Hermione again until Christmas."

"I know it's hard, Ron. I feel the same way," said Harry, "but you know she'll write to you. She really loves you, you know."

He blushed. "I love her, too."

"Bloody hell, Ron, look at the time," Harry said as they passed through the barrier back into the Muggle part of the station, "we've got to be at the Ministry by noon."

"For what?" asked Ron, alarmed.

"Kingsley wants to give us pre-training Auror tests so he knows how much we have to learn, and he also said we can't be late. Come on!"

And with that, Harry seized Ron by the elbow, and skirting a clump of suit-clad businessmen loading onto a train at platform ten, dragged him from the great station.

••••••••

"Harry! Ron!" Kingsley boomed, striding from his office to meet them. "Here for your testing?"

"Yes," said Harry, suddenly rather nervous, while Ron just nodded mutely.

Kingsley chuckled. "No need to be nervous, boys. You'll take a written exam first before we move on to dueling. Ready?"

Harry sat down behind a vacant desk in Kingsley's outer office, where a piece of parchment, a quill, and an upside-down exam paper waited.

"You have one hour to complete these questions," Kingsley said. "Go ahead and start."

Harry turned over the paper; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron do the same. He glanced at the first question, which read, "Name the three Unforgivable Curses, their incantations, and their effects." With a grin, he inked up his quill and began to write.

••••••••

"Again!" shouted Matt, the Auror that Harry was dueling. "You can do better than that, Potter!"

"You asked for it!" Harry bellowed back, circling around the room and ducking just in time to avoid a speeding jet of red light; it flew over his head and narrowly missed hitting Ron, who was fighting another Auror behind him. "Impedimenta!"

Matt, who was charging toward Harry, stopped in mid-stride as though he had hit a wall, and Harry used this opportunity to fire off a round of Stunners.

"Nice move there, Harry!" called Ron over the volley of bangs Harry's wand was now emitting.

"Thanks!" Harry yelled back, pointing his wand at Matt and muttering, "Ennervate."

Matt stirred feebly, staring wide-eyed up at Harry. After a moment, he grinned. "I guess I did ask for it."

Harry pulled him to his feet. "You okay?"

"I guess."

Matt looked over at Kingsley, who was standing in the corner with a satisfied smile on his face. "Based on that, we'd be bloody stupid not to accept him immediately."

"What? But—I thought—don't I have to train?" Harry asked, startled.

"Well, Harry, you've proven an awful lot to us both over the past several months and today. So has Ron here," Kingsley said, motioning to where Ron was helping his opponent to his feet. "We feel that both of you are more than ready—besides, there's nothing like on-the-job training to get you used to everything."

"I—wow, Kingsley. Thank you so much," said Harry rather breathlessly. Ron just stood there, mouth hanging open, gaping like a fish.

Kingsley laughed. "Your new offices are this way." 


	6. Letters from Home

Dear Harry,

I really miss you. We're very busy here at Hogwarts—between classes and more classes and trying to reassure the first years that a Death Eater isn't going to jump out at them from behind a statue and even more classes, I hardly have any time to write. So I'm writing this during Transfiguration—our new teacher's an alright bloke, but his classes are nowhere near as hard as McGonagall's.

Speaking of classes: Hermione, as usual, is freaking out over her schoolwork already. Yesterday, Flitwick assigned us a three-foot essay on protective enchantments. It's not due for two days, but she's already written five feet and she's not even halfway through the list Flitwick gave us. I wanted to point out to her that she just spent a year on the run and she knows all about these spells already, but I didn't for fear she'd rip my head off. Sometimes I wonder how you and Ron put up with her for seven years.

Anyway, I've got to go. Say hello to the family for me. Write back soon. I love you.

Ginny

••••••••

Ginny finished her letter and laid down her quill, looking up for the first time since she'd entered the Transfiguration classroom an hour ago. Everyone was chatting with their seatmates as they packed up their bags—Professor Emerson had clearly dismissed the class. Hurriedly, Ginny scrambled to shove all her books into her bag, snag her quill and the letter to Harry from her desk, and make it out the classroom door into the corridor.

Transfiguration was her last class of the day, so she headed away from the rolling tide of people in the main corridors and along a side hallway that she knew would lead her right to Gryffindor Tower. Suddenly she stopped, remembering the letter for Harry she was clutching in her fist. Spinning on her heel, she set off the other way for the Owlery.

Ginny tied her letter carefully to Pigwidgeon's leg, crossed to the window, and threw him out unceremoniously. The little owl plummeted downwards before finally managing to get his wits about him and flying off.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "That is the dumbest bird I've ever had the misfortune of owning."

She strode from the room, heading for Gryffindor Tower. It seemed no time at all before she had reached the seventh-floor corridor, given the Fat Lady the password and clambered through the portrait hole into the common room, which was empty except for a few fourth years grouped up in a corner. Heaving a sigh, Ginny plopped down in her favorite armchair beside the fire and pulled out her copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, planning to get to work on her Herbology essay.

"Ginny!"

She glanced up quickly to see Hermione hurrying toward her. "Hey, Hermione. What's going on?"

"Nothing, really." Hermione looked over Ginny's shoulder at her essay title. "'Venomous Tentacula and Their Uses'. Yeah, because a plant that can strangle you is really useful."

Ginny snorted. "My thoughts exactly."

Hermione sat down beside her, opening her own bag. "Is it really almost Christmas?"

"I know, I can't believe it either," Ginny said, scribbling out a misspelled word in her essay. "Just one more week, and we'll see them again. I really have missed Harry."

"Haven't you been writing letters?" asked Hermione, frowning.

"Of course I have, but… you know… it's just not the same as getting to talk to them."

"I know what you mean," said Hermione seriously.

Both of them sat in silence for a while, working on their homework and trying to ignore the noise from the rest of the students now crowded around the room.

"Bloody first years can't keep quiet in here, can they?" growled Ginny, glaring at a nearby group of eleven-year-olds. "They make it so hard to focus!"

"I know," Hermione said sympathetically, "but you just have to—OI!"

One of the first years, a cocky-looking boy with blond hair had just nailed the back of Hermione's head with a well-aimed Dungbomb. Before Ginny could do anything, Hermione leapt up, clearly seething with rage, and glowered down at the boy with an expression that terrified even Ginny.

Suddenly, the boy darted between Hermione's armchair and Ginny's, heading for the portrait hole. With a roar of anger, Hermione leapt after him, flying through the portrait hole into the corridor beyond.

Ginny laughed to herself, crossing out the fourth spoiled sentence in her essay. Sometimes, she thought, getting a bad grade on something could be worth it.

••••••••

Ginny went down to breakfast in the Great Hall the next day and sat in her usual seat beside Hermione. As she dug into an enormous plate of toast, the post owls arrived through the upper windows.

Pigwidgeon landed in front of her, nearly upsetting a pitcher of pumpkin juice over Demelza Robins in his eagerness to deliver his letter. Ginny fished him out of what was left of Dennis Creevey's breakfast and read the name on the letter attached to his leg. "It's from Harry!"

"Read it, then!" said Demelza and Hermione together, both of them leaning forward eagerly. Ginny unrolled the letter and began to read.

••••••••

Dear Ginny,

I miss you, too. Everything's crazy with work, and I hardly have any peace. You'd be amazed at the number of Death Eaters still running around! On the upside, though, Ron and I are right next to each other in the office, so there are still plenty of opportunities to hex him. (Insert evil expression here.) We're actually just leaving Hogsmeade (we spent the day here doing something for Kingsley) so I figured you'd enjoy the quick reply.

In family news, I bet you can't guess who's pregnant… and George eloped with none other than Angelina Johnson. Your mum was practically having kittens when she heard. (Seriously, it was all I could do to Disapparate straight away before she blew the kitchen doors off.) I guess she was really looking forward to having another wedding to plan, hm? Oh, well. Maybe George was staying true to Fred's promise.

Bill and Fleur send all their love and a desperate plea for name ideas. (Fucksake, I just gave it away! Oh, well.) Charlie and Percy both say hello, George and Ron are both begging for toilet seats, and your mum and dad are sending a load of food within the next week.

Love, Harry

••••••••

"Fleur's pregnant, and George eloped? Merlin, your mum's going to be an emotional wreck," said Hermione when Ginny had finished.

"Oh, I know," said Ginny with a grin, standing up and hoisting her bag onto her shoulder. "It'll be an interesting Christmas."

••••••••

A/N: I know I haven't put in an author's note in a while. Okay. Doing it now. :)

I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed and put this story on alert. Seeing about thirty emails from Fanfiction every time I open my inbox is a great feeling and motivates me to keep giving you guys more. Please keep reviewing!

The next chapter will possibly take two days, although I'm counting on it to be at least three. It's going to be a big chapter (bet you can't guess…) full of Christmassy fluff, so be happy!

Thanks again, EPC 


	7. Christmas Present

A/N: Thanks for all the positive feedback I've been getting on this story. You guys ROCK. (If I had a Galleon for every time I said that, I'd be richer than Harry.)

Okay, so here it is: the big P-R-O-P-O-S-A-L. I wanted to dedicate this chapter to all the people who have reviewed this so far, specifically ebonbon and Lily Anne Rose. I tried really hard to pack on the fluffy stuff for you guys.

…seriously, there's enough here to make a pretty comfy pillow…

Enjoy!

••••••••

Ottery St. Catchpole lay under a thick blanket of pristine white snow that Christmas Eve. As Harry Apparated into a back alley, he slipped and stumbled on a patch of ice, causing him to land on his face with a mouthful of sleet.

"Bloody ice," he muttered, sitting up and groping for his glasses on the ground around him. He found them, wiped them off on the sleeve of his jacket, and stuck them back on his face where they would actually be of some use. Getting carefully to his feet, he stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and began the walk to the outskirts of the village.

His right hand brushed against something in his pocket—a velvety box that, he knew, held everything he hoped to accomplish tonight. Not only did Harry want to have the best Christmas ever, he also wanted to leave the Burrow as Ginny Weasley's fiancé.

It was Ginny, Harry had decided. How hard could it be? He definitely loved her, and could clearly imagine spending the rest of his life with her. He put that same trust in her feelings for him. Yet something about her still made him go weak at the knees—perhaps it was her fiery demeanor, or her extreme devotion to him even when he wasn't there. There had been plenty of boys at Hogwarts with her while he wasn't there; she could have taken her pick of any one of them. But Ginny, faithful as always, had stuck with him to the end.

And that, Harry knew, more than justified asking her to marry him.

••••••••

When Harry stepped into the Burrow, a scene of total chaos reigned. Whatever he had been expecting from the outside appearance of the house—shining like a brilliant beacon of cozy yellow light against the dark, starry sky—this was most definitely not it. Silverware and plates were zooming between kitchen and dining room, half-wrapped presents were strewn all over the floor, and the living room furniture was upended. People were shouting across the house to each other, only adding to the general cacophony.

"Arthur, if you're letting that cranberry sauce burn while you play with your plugs, I swear to Merlin—"

"Sorry, Molly, I'm coming!"

There was a horrid smell of burning fruit coming from the kitchen now, and Arthur shouted, "Damn, is it supposed to be smoking like that?"

"ARTHUR!"

"George, for the last bloody time, if that stack of plates hits me in the head again I will personally tear off your head and feed it to a Blibbering Humdinger."

"Stop whining, Ginny, and go do something productive like helping Angelina set the table."

"I could use a hand in here!"

"I've got two!" Harry bellowed above the noise, trying to make himself heard.

There was a moment of silence, and then Molly's head popped around the kitchen door. "Harry! Gracious, dear, you told us not to expect you!"

"Kingsley played a practical joke on us," Harry explained, accepting her bone-crushing hug with a grin.

"It wasn't bleeding funny, either," said a new voice—Ron—from behind Harry. "He told us we'd have an important mission tonight, one that could take days, and when we all showed up there was a note stuck to his office door that said, "Just kidding!"

Molly laughed. "Oh, Kingsley—but what would we do without him?"

"Probably not much," said Hermione, who was standing beside Ron.

"Hey, Harry!" Angelina called, coming out of the dining room as Molly hurried back to the kitchen with Ron and Hermione in tow. "How've you been?"

"Fine, and you?" Harry noticed the diamond rings sparkling on her left hand. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Thanks, Harry," she said with a grin. "It was crazy for a while, but I love it."

Harry returned her smile, knowing that he was close to that moment himself.

••••••••

An hour later, everyone was sitting around the dining room table, enjoying Molly's delicious Christmas dinner. As everyone ate roast turkey like they wouldn't see tomorrow, Harry looked around at his assembled family: Fleur, positively glowing, beside an ecstatic Bill; George and Angelina, both looking much happier than Harry had seen anyone in a long time; Ron and Hermione, holding hands; Percy talking to Charlie, gesturing with his hands as he explained something-or-other; Ginny in conversation with Audrey, Percy's new girlfriend; Molly and Arthur reveling in having their children around them again; and little Teddy with Andromeda, giggling happily as she fed him spoonfuls of peas.

Harry caught Ginny's eye across the table, and she seemed to guess what he was thinking. He cast a covert glance at the back door and mouthed, "Outside?"

She nodded and stood up. When Harry followed her lead, Arthur paused with his fork halfway to his mouth and looked at the two of them suspiciously. "Where are you two going?"

"Out," Ginny said simply. "Come on, Harry."

Harry followed her from the overcrowded dining room and out into the silent, still back garden. For a moment, they stood in the light shining through the open door, neither of them talking.

After a few moments, Harry turned to Ginny. "I've got something to tell you."

She looked at him curiously, but took his hand without further question.

Heart beating in his throat at the thought of what he was about to do, Harry walked with her to a secluded corner of the yard, sheltered by trees and free of any snow. They sank down to sit together on the grass, close together, still holding hands.

"This is romantic," Ginny murmured. "Sitting outside, alone…"

"There's a purpose to being alone at the moment," Harry said quietly.

She glanced up at him quickly. "What's that?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Well, ever since the battle, I've been thinking. I remember being scared you wouldn't take me back because of all the things I put you and our relationship through, and so I wanted something that proved, not just to me, but to you as well, that I'll never leave you like that again."

He stood up and pulled her to her feet, holding both of her hands now. She stared back at him, her eyes searching his face hungrily, and Harry realized that this was their first chance to be truly alone since before she'd gone back to school. He hadn't even gotten to go to King's Cross when she arrived home because of an Auror mission.

"I don't doubt my relationship with you at all, Harry," she said quietly, "and you don't have to prove it to me."

"You know me, though," he said as he pulled the little velvet box from his pocket and slid down onto one knee. "I can't resist."

Ginny's eyes widened, and she seemed to be fighting back tears, but underneath it all, she was smiling. He took this as a cue to continue.

"I was never good at giving speeches, so I'm going to cut to the chase. Ginevra Molly Weasley, you are the most beautiful, perfect, funny, amazing woman in the world, and there's nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

She nodded, crying in earnest now. "Yes!"

Fingers trembling slightly, Harry extracted the ring from the box. It was very simple—a single diamond on a silver band—but he thought it was beautiful just the same. He slid it onto the third finger of her left hand carefully, praying it would fit.

"It's beautiful, Harry," Ginny whispered. "I'm sorry I'm a complete mess right now."

"You're a beautiful mess," said Harry, standing up and kissing her.

They were interrupted by the sound of the house door banging open. Hurriedly, they broke apart and emerged from their secluded hiding spot to see Bill, Charlie, George, and Ron standing in the doorway.

"What have you two been doing out here? You've been outside far too long, Miss Weasley," George said accusingly, jabbing a finger in Ginny's direction.

Ginny laughed and held up her left hand, where the ring glittered in the light shining from the doorway. "That's the last time you'll be able to call me that, George!"

The four redheaded men stood, mouths hanging open, looking first at Ginny, then at Harry, then back to Ginny again.

It was finally Ron who broke the silence. "Harry! Do you always have to bloody upstage us?"

Harry laughed. "Was that a challenge? In which case…"

He pulled his wand from his pocket with a flourish and brought it down in a sweeping motion. A large bouquet of red roses appeared in midair. Harry caught it, handed it to Ginny, and stowed his wand back in his coat, bowing low.

"Prat," was the last thing he heard Ginny say before the Weasley brothers were hugging him, pounding him on the back, and shouting.

"Harry's really part of the family now!" yelled George over his shoulder to a large crowd of startled Weasleys who had just appeared in the doorway.

Harry laughed as Charlie and Bill dogpiled on top of him. That was it—part of the family. 


	8. Big Day

A/N: Thanks again for all the great reviews! Please keep reviewing and alerting. It makes my day.

I want to dedicate this chapter to my real-life friend wombat-of-awesomeness, who helped me with this chapter before I even published the story and for being my cheering-section-slash-Fanfiction-stalker. You are completely awesome, thank you very much. :) [Stale Peeps and Redvines forever!]

I found this chapter rather hard to write, seeing as it IS Harry and Ginny's wedding, but I'm pleased with the final results, and I hope you enjoy!

(PS: this chapter takes place about four months after chapter 7.)

EPC

••••••••

"Harry. Harry. Harry! HARRY POTTER, WAKE UP! Do you want to miss your bloody wedding?"

Harry jerked awake to see Ron looming over him, brandishing a pillow over his head. He rolled over, trying to make out the time on the wall clock—5:18 a.m. With a sigh, he looked back at Ron and asked, "Remind me again why I made you my best man?"

"Because one, I'm your best mate, and two, if I wasn't here to wake you up, you'd probably oversleep and miss the whole thing."

"That's more than a little bit hypocritical coming from you, Ron. Punctuality and early rising have never been your strong suits, either."

Ron swatted him with the pillow. "Shut up, Harry."

They entered the kitchen and sat at the little table for two. The two of them had bought a tiny flat in Diagon Alley, just down the street from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, after they had both become Aurors. But now that Harry was marrying Ginny (today, he realized again with a jolt), and Ron was engaged to Hermione, they had decided to split. Ginny would move in with Harry, and Ron would go live with Hermione.

"Are you nervous?" Ron asked quietly.

"Not really, no," Harry replied, glancing out the window at the still-dark alley. "Actually, I'm pretty excited to—"

"Ugh! No, no, I don't want to hear what you're going to do to my baby sister!"

Harry laughed. "I was only going to say that I'm excited to see her. It's not my fault you have a dirty mind."

Ron blushed. "Oh, shut up."

"We need to clean up for tonight," Harry said, casting around wildly for a term for the night's... activities that wouldn't upset Ron, "and then we need to go get Ginny's things from the Burrow and unpack them here."

"Okay," Ron said, pushing his chair back from the table. "I don't trust you to go to the Burrow without doing something you aren't supposed to, like talking to my sister," —Harry rolled his eyes at this— "so I'll go get Ginny's stuff, and you clean up here."

"All right, Mr. I-Don't-Trust-My-Best-Mate."

"Whatever, Harry. Back in ten minutes."

The door closed behind Ron, leaving Harry alone to clean. With a sigh, he went back into the bedroom, his mind already back on Ginny and what would happen in a few short hours.

••••••••

"I'm back, Harry and Hermione's already going spare over our appearances," Ron groaned, flopping into a kitchen chair. "She's on her way over here now."

"For what?" asked Harry, still methodically folding sheets as he walked into the kitchen (he'd found that if he did it manually, rather than with magic, it helped take his mind off things).

"She wants to make sure we look 'acceptable'," said Ron, his fingers sketching air quotes around the word 'acceptable'.

Harry snorted, laying a neatly folded pillowcase on the table. "Like I'd show up to my own wedding in jeans and a bloody sweatshirt."

"Well, you would be the type!" said a new voice from the doorway, and Harry wheeled around to see Hermione leaning against the wall.

She was already dressed in a deep purple, floor-length dress, her hair was shiny and perfectly curled, and from the sound she made when she walked, she was wearing high-heeled shoes. (If the way Hermione was dressed was any indication, Harry thought, Ginny was going to be nothing short of stunning.)

"Come on, Harry, you need to get dressed," she said, rummaging around in what Harry recognized as the old beaded bag, "and then we can get to Ron."

"I feel so loved," Ron muttered as Hermione handed Harry a black bundle with a white dress shirt and bow tie on top.

"Honestly, Ronald, are you the one getting married today?"

••••••••

This was it—the last five minutes Harry would spend as a single man. Soon, Ginny would come walking down that silver-carpeted aisle to become his wife.

The guests were filing into the marquee and taking their seats. Harry saw Professor McGonagall talking to Hagrid and Charlie, Teddy being helped into a seat by Andromeda, Bill and Fleur with their new daughter Victoire, and several old D.A. members claiming seats at the back.

Kingsley came hurrying up to Harry just then, clad in black dress robes. As Minister of Magic, he would be presiding over the ceremony.

"We're starting in a moment, Harry. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Harry replied, trying not to hyperventilate. Now that the moment had come, he suddenly felt very nervous.

A swell of music sounded; all the guests had risen from their seats and were watching the entrance to the marquee, waititng for the wedding party to appear.

Neville and Luna (who was dressed identically to how Hermione had been in the morning) came first, followed by Ron and Hermione. All four of them were beaming widely at Harry. As Ron took his place to Harry's left, he leaned over and muttered, "You look petrified."

"Shut up," Harry whispered back, grinning.

Suddenly, a soaring fanfare trilled through the music, and all heads turned to watch Aurthur and Ginny enter the marquee.

Harry was absolutely floored by Ginny's appearance. Her dress was sleeveless, form-fitting to the waist, then billowing down around her in a satiny curtain. A slim, plum-colored ribbon was tied in a simple bow around her waist. Her hair cascaded down her back in a shower of pretty ringlets, shining under the soft lights that hung from the ceiling of the marquee. She was just so beautiful—it was only the steady pressure of Ron's hand gripping his elbow that prevented Harry from sprinting headlong down the aisle toward her and kissing her then and there.

She finally reached him at the top of the aisle, smiling through her tears, and Harry willed himself not to cry too. As Arthur took Ginny's hand and placed it in Harry's, he knew that he was home.

"Dear ones, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two very special people..." Kingsley began, speaking confidently.

As the ceremony progressed, Harry found it harder and harder to believe that this was really happening to him. When he thought back a year, remembering the turmoil that the Wizarding world had endured, it made him realize that moments like this made the struggle worthwhile. It was the first moment that he was really proud of what he had done.

"...and now the couple will say their vows, beginning with Harry," Kingsley said.

Fortunately, Ron had drilled Harry on his personal vows until he could do it in his sleep, so when Kingsley announced this, Harry took a deep breath and said, "Ever since my sixth year at Hogwarts, I just knew that Ginny was 'the one'. I guess you could call her my 'Chosen One'. But while we were off in hiding in my seventh year... that was what really nailed it for me. I used to take out the old Marauders' Map and literally stare at Ginny's dot, like if I looked at it long enough, I'd be able to talk to her. I really do think the thought of her kept me sane. And the fact that she did so much for Hogwarts while we were gone—she didn't just fall apart at the seams because we were away—that more than justified this for me."

There were several 'aw's throughout the crowd, and Harry grinned.

"And Miss Weasley?" Kingsley asked, turning to Ginny.

She laughed. "That's the last time anyone's going to be able to call me that!"

Harry looked over at George, sitting in the front row, and George winked at him; he guessed George was remembering the proposal as well.

"I remember having a huge crush on Harry from the time I was about five. When I first met him, I did this kind of crazed-fangirl thing where I couldn't even be in the same room as him without doing something embarrassing, like putting my elbow in the butter dish. Eventually, Hermione told me to just calm down, go out with some other guys for a while—and it worked. And here I am today, marrying the most selfless, caring, amazing man in the world. That's worth more than any Harry Potter fan club."

Harry blushed. "That's good to know."

The rest of the ceremony passed in a daze, until Harry dimly heard Kingsley say, "...then I declare you bonded for life."

Finally, Harry stepped forward at the same time that Ginny did, and they kissed—longer than they ever had before, surrounded by a shower of glittering silver stars. Thunderous applause filled the marquee as they broke apart, then disappeared under a throng of well-wishers.

••••••••

They were sitting down, chatting with friends and enjoying the delicious food, when Ron stood up and rapped his wand against his goblet for silence. Everyone stopped talking at once.

"So," Ron said, looking around at the guests, "I think we Weasley brothers can agree that this occasion has been distinctly awkward. I mean, we were all friends with Harry for so long, ready to kill any bloke who dated our sister, and suddenly we've got a combination of the two? It's a bit odd, but nothing was as shocking as their first kiss."

"Oh, no," Dean Thomas groaned from a nearby table, and everyone laughed.

"So, there we were in the Gryffindor common room, having just won the Quidditch Cup. Harry had detention with Snape—"

"Of course," chorused the D.A., and Harry had to laugh.

"—when suddenly, he walks into the common room. He's totally startled, because we're all yelling at him, and Ginny comes out of nowhere and starts running towards him."

Ginny blushed and buried her face in her hands.

"And out of nowhere, they're kissing each other, and I'm just thinking, 'Oh, Merlin, here we go.'"

"It was weird," Hermione admitted, getting up to stand beside Ron, "but then again, when has anything Harry ever done not been a little strange?"

"Like talking in his sleep?" Neville volunteered.

Harry snorted. "Please, Neville. You were the one who woke up in the middle of the night saying that Seamus was 'after your Lucky Charms.'"

"What are Lucky Charms?" Seamus wanted to know.

"Muggle cereal," Hermione explained, "with a big picture of a leprechaun on the front of the box."

For the rest of the night, as Harry ate and talked and danced, the only thing he wanted to do was find Ginny and get away. He was grateful when Charlie finally stood up on a chair and shouted, "Hey, let's get the lovebirds out of here so they can have some alone time, shall we?"

There was a great roar of applause as Harry took Ginny's hand and led her from the marquee, away from the massive crowd of people, and past the boundaries of the protective charms put on the Burrow (to prevent any unwanted reporters from getting in).

"Come on, Mrs. Potter, let's go home," said Harry softly.

Ginny smiled. "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to that."

••••••••

"Merlin's beard, what have they done to this place?" Harry asked, putting Ginny down as he stepped through the door of his and Ginny's flat.

"What do you mean?" she asked, peering through the bedroom door with him.

Where there used to be two beds, there was now only one—an enormous, king-sized monster of a bed with white sheets. To make matters worse, there were white pillar candles flickering around the room, casting soft spots of dancing light over the walls; and to top it off, rose petals were scattered over the bed and floor.

"If this is Ron's idea of a practical joke, I'm not laughing," Harry said. "This is going a bit too far."

"Harry, you're overreacting," Ginny said soothingly. "We can just ignore them, you know, and focus on other things."

She turned around and kissed him again, teasing him this time by pulling away when he moved to deepen it.

"Focus on other things?" Harry breathed, responding to her kiss with one of his own. "I can do that."

••••••••

A/N: Yay! They're married! :)

Sorry for the long wait, but my life is basically falling apart at the seams. I'll try to get another chapter written by next Monday. Thanks for putting up with me, guys. The reviews are much appreciated!

EPC


	9. Positive

Two years later, Harry was on his way into work at the Ministry. Normally, his walk to work was filled with thoughts of trial notes, meetings, Death Eaters, or Azkaban visits. However, today he was worried about Ginny. She hadn't been feeling very well for the past few weeks, and Harry was concerned. She hadn't been telling him anything either, which was also a reason to worry—they always told each other everything.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, he stepped off the telephone box lift and almost plowed straight into Ron, who had evidently just arrived.

"Hey, mate. Did you get that owl from Kingsley this morning that told you to hurry in?"

"Yeah," said Harry, remembering the large tawny owl that had landed on his plate while he ate his toast, "and I was wondering about that. We always have to be in by seven, so why did he tell us we needed to hurry?"

"Well, I just saw Robards, and he told me there was a mandatory meeting for the entire Auror department in Kingsley's office in ten minutes," Ron said, apparently oblivious to the throngs of people bumping into him in their haste to reach their offices.

Harry checked Fabian Prewett's battered old watch to see that it was already seven-thirty. "Come on, then, I need to swing by my office before the meeting." He had a sudden thought, and added, "and ask Hermione a favor."

"What do you need to ask Hermione?" asked Ron, casting a sideways look at Harry as they began the walk to the lifts.

"I need her to check up on Ginny for me. If my own wife won't tell me anything, I figure one of her best friends might be able to get it out of her."

Ron snorted. "Women and their mysteries."

Meanwhile, Ginny was standing in front of the mirror back in her and Harry's flat, examining herself carefully. Was it just her, or had she gained a few pounds? She heard a CRACK in the entryway and called out, "Hello?"

"It's me, Ginny," said Hermione's voice. "Where are you?"

"Bedroom," she called back, turning around to look at herself from the other side.

Hermione appeared in the doorway, still dressed for work. "Hey. How are you?"

"Not very good. I've just woken up really dizzy and nauseous the last few days, and I'm gaining weight. Do you think you might—"

She was cut off by Hermione's sudden gasp—Ginny hoped it was one of recognition—and she watched as her sister-in-law wrenched open a dresser drawer and started rifling through it. She resurfaced holding a small, white, unopened box of tampons.

Ginny groaned. "Oh, there's no way. There is _no way _that I can be pregnant."

"Unless you are," said Hermione gently. "Has it been over a month since your last period?"

Ginny mentally ticked off the days in her head, then said, "Yes."

"There's a way you can be sure," Hermione said, opening her handbag and extracting a small pink box. "It's a Muggle pregnancy test. Go take it."

After entering the bathroom, opening the box, and scanning the directions, Ginny came to a dead stop. "I have to do _WHAT_?"

A few hours after Hermione had left, Ginny was sitting on the living room sofa, nervously fidgeting with the pillows for something to do. She had taken the test—and found it positive—now all there was to do was wait for Harry.

She heard the door to the flat open and close, and Harry shouted out, "Ginny, I'm home!"

"Hey," she said softly, crossing the living room and wrapping her arms around her husband. She tried not to focus on the news she was about to drop on him, but instead said, "Dinner's ready."

"Great! I'm starving," Harry said, following her into the tiny kitchen and sitting down on a chair.

Ginny laughed. "You're starting to sound like Ron."

"Hey, being an Auror is hard work!" he exclaimed, assuming a mock-defiant air.

"Yeah," she teased, "a lot of hard paperwork."

"Okay, okay," said Harry quietly, "I surrender."

After Ginny served the food, they ate in comfortable silence for a while, before Harry broke the silence. "I know you're just bursting with news right now, so spit it out."

Ginny blushed. "You're way too good at reading people."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Yes. So, anyway..." Ginny trailed off, unsure of what to say to him, then decided to just give it to him straight. "Harry, I'm pregnant."

Harry's green eyes widened with something like a combination of shock and excitement; his fork clattered to his plate, forgotten. As Ginny watched, he finally mumbled, "B-but—like, right now? I'm going to be a father?"

"Yes," Ginny whispered, unable to look him in the eyes anymore for fear she'd dissolve into tears.

"Then I'm going to do the only thing I can do right now," Harry said, his voice remarkably calm.

Ginny looked up just in time to see him fall off the chair.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, but this chapter was really hard to write. The falling off the chair part was fun, though. :) Please review!**

**EPC**


	10. Telling the Family

"I'm nervous, Harry," Ginny said quietly as she pulled on her jacket. They were getting ready to head over to the Burrow for Sunday lunch with the family, where they planned to announce their big news to the rest of the family.

"Ginny, it'll be fine," said Harry firmly. "They'll be happy for us, I know they will."

"But we're so young! I mean, I'm only twenty! Mum'll be going spare..."

"No, she won't," Harry said, spinning her around to face him; his tone of voice made it clear that the matter wasn't open to further discussion. "Come on—the longer we stand here and talk about it, the more nervous you'll be."

••••••••

"Mum! Dad!" Ginny called into the house. "Where are you?"

"In the kitchen, dear," called her mother, poking her head around the doorway. "You're certainly here early! Is something wrong?"

"No, we just have some news," Harry said, sharing a look with Ginny.

"I should say you do!" Ron said as they entered the living room. "How come you didn't tell us?"

"Tell you what?" Ginny asked, trying to keep her voice even. There was no way they'd guessed! Her heart was practically beating out of her chest as she waited for Ron's reply.

"Why'd you quit Quidditch? There's got to be a reason!"

"Oh, there is," Harry said, "but you'll need to wait until everyone gets here."

••••••••

They were all seated around the table enjoying lunch an hour later. Four-months-pregnant Angelina was telling the family about the wedding she was planning for Katie Bell. When she and Fleur had finally exhausted the topic of color schemes, the room lapsed into silence.

Ron finally spoke up. "Are you going to tell us this news, or what?"

"What?" everyone asked simultaneously, staring at Ron.

Ginny looked at Harry. "Want to do the honors?"

"Oh, no, you should do it."

"You're so supportive, Harry," said Ginny sarcastically. "Come on, at least stand up with me."

"Oh, Merlin, they're standing up. This can't be good," George muttered under his breath.

Ginny shot him a glare. "Watch it." She looked back at Harry for support, and he grabbed her hand encouragingly. Turning back to face her parents, she said, "Mum, Dad, Harry and I are going to make you grandparents for the fourth time."

Someone standing outside the Burrow might have thought a bomb had gone off inside, so loud was the noise explosion that erupted around the dining room table. The men had leapt on top of Harry, all yelling at the top of their lungs; George was roaring, "Finally got our baby sister knocked up, Potter!" The women had enfolded Ginny in a tight hug, not letting go until Ginny managed to choke out, "Guys—I love you too, but oxygen is becoming a problem."

She finally got away, shoved through the crowds of family members, and reached Harry; then he was kissing her the way she'd never been kissed before, she never wanted it to end—

"Oi, lovebirds!" Bill shouted. "Get a room!"

Ginny pulled away and wheeled around to look back at her brothers; out of all of them, only Ron wasn't saying anything.

"What's wrong, Ron?" Percy asked.

"How the bloody hell did the kid I met on the train end up getting our sister pregnant?"

"Because, Ronald," said Harry, throwing up his hands in mock exasperation, "your sister is—"

"—amazing, beautiful, way too popular for her own good, and has nice skin."

"You're saying I got Ginny pregnant because she has nice skin?"

"I'm just saying it could be a contributing factor."

Ginny, thoroughly confused, chose this moment to jump in. "How does that even make sense?"

"It doesn't."

The laughter and jokes continued on long into the evening. As Ginny was leaving with Harry, she laughed to herself. What had there ever been for her to be nervous about? After all, if her brothers had had anything remotely threatening come out of their mouths, she'd have shown them the business end of a good hex.

She really was such a wonderful sister.

••••••••

Sorry for the wait, everyone, but I really needed a bit of a break from writing. I'm back now, though, and we're good. :) Thanks so much for reviewing and favoriting (is that even a word?) and putting this story on alert. Virtual Redvines for you all.

To wombat-of-awesomeness: You may recognize about half this chapter from stuff of mine you read at school. :) I'm busy writing you a present right now. But I'm not telling you what it's about until I publish it. (cue shifty look)

Thanks again, EPC


	11. Here We Go

"I'm surprised that this isn't all over the Daily Prophet already. You know those reporters," Ginny remarked to Harry. They had been debating when they wanted to go to St. Mungo's to get Ginny checked over; Harry wanted it to be soon, but she vehemently opposed the idea. There was no way this highly personal event for their family was getting splashed across the front page of every newspaper and magazine in the Wizarding world until they were ready to announce it. "They'll probably find out something from when we go to St. Mungo's."

"Yeah, that and the fact that you're showing a little bit already."

"Ugh," Ginny groaned, looking down at herself. "I worked so hard for Quidditch, and now my fabulous muscles are nonexistent!"

"It's for a good cause, though, right?" Harry asked teasingly, pulling Ginny gently into the living room and onto the sofa beside him.

"No," Ginny said sarcastically. "You know what? Do we have any friends who are Healers? I'd rather have someone I know handle this—like someone from the D.A. or something like that."

"Er—" Harry looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Padma. Padma Patil. I remember Parvati telling me at work a while back that Padma was working in maternity at St. Mungo's."

"Let's do that, then," said Ginny. "I'd rather have someone I trust to keep the secret than some git that I barely know and who'll probably tell everything to the Prophet if they pay enough for the story."

"You seem to have thought this out."

"Maybe I did," she retorted playfully. "Let's go see Padma tomorrow."

"Okay, I'll write Kingsley later and tell him I won't be in."

"Will you rub my feet?"

"Sure, love."

••••••••

They entered St. Mungo's the next morning and joined the line in front of the Welcome Witch's desk.

When they reached the front, the witch said in a bored tone (and without looking up from the novel she was reading), "Can I help you?"

"We're here to meet with Healer Padma Patil," said Ginny, trying to keep her voice at a normal level, lest the people behind them recognize the famous couple.

"All right, I'll see if she has a moment," said the witch in a voice that suggested she'd do nothing of the sort anytime soon. "May I have your names, please?"

"Harry and Ginny Potter," Harry told her.

The witch's head snapped up. "Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Potter! Follow me—right this way, please."

Ginny smirked. "I know you hate the attention, but—"

"—sometimes I have to love being famous," Harry finished for her, his emerald-green eyes twinkling with laughter.

The Welcome Witch stopped at a door on the right side of the hall, stuck her head in for a moment, then turned to face Ginny and Harry again. "Healer Patil will see you now."

The couple entered the room to find Padma waiting for them, dressed in lime-green robes and beaming at her friends. Ginny returned the smile—Padma had done so much for the D.A. while Harry, Ron, and Hermione were away, and she was proud to count Padma as a friend.

"Well, this is interesting. People don't usually come to see me unless…" She trailed off, looking first to Ginny and then to Harry as if for confirmation.

Ginny offered a grin. "Here we go."

"Oh, my God! Really?" She looked so excited, Ginny couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes, but we would appreciate it if it was kept quiet for now—at least until we're ready to announce it," Harry explained, sharing a look with Ginny.

Padma's face became serious at once. "Of course. I understand. The press is crazy when it comes to you, Harry—" (she was saying all this while helping Ginny onto the exam table, showing Harry to a chair, and pulling out parchment, a handsome eagle-feather quill, a pink clipboard, and gloves) "—and I get where you're coming from. It'll be the same with Ron and Hermione, I bet."

Harry laughed. "We'll be sure to recommend you, when the time comes."

Padma was scribbling information onto the sheet of parchment, pausing occasionally to perform a few simple incantations under her breath. Ginny couldn't quite make out what she was saying.

Finally, she stopped writing and turned to face the couple. "Okay, so here's what I've got. Ginny, you are about ten weeks pregnant, which means no more Quidditch for you."

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, I've already talked to Gwenog."

"Great, so we've solved that. Now—" Padma consulted the parchment again "—today is December first, so the baby was probably conceived right around September twenty-third. This makes your due date June fifteenth. Other than that, I don't really have anything else to tell you other than no alcohol—any questions?"

"No, I think we're all set. Thank you so much, Padma."

"Not a problem. I'll see you back here in about three weeks, just to check that everything's going okay. If you have any questions, come see me."

"We'll do that. See you soon!"

"Bye!" Padma waved as they left her office.

••••••••

"Well, that's a relief," Harry said as soon as they were safely back in their flat. "It's good to know we have an actual schedule."

"Definitely," said Ginny, sitting down at the kitchen table. "But I just realized something—we can't live in this little flat with the baby. There's enough space for the two of us, but we don't have an extra room."

"You're right. Well, let's sleep on it tonight, and tomorrow we can decide what we're going to do."

"Sure."

Harry reached across the table and took Ginny's hand. "Are you nervous?"

"Does it show on my face that badly?" Ginny asked, blushing. "Yes—I mean, what if we're not good parents? This is what I meant when I said we're really young for this."

"Ginny," Harry said softly, "you're not giving yourself enough credit. And besides, we can get through anything if we do it together."

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand. He had always known how to calm her down, better than even her parents could. She looked into those piercing green eyes, eyes that told her more than words could ever say, and agreed.

"Together."

••••••••

A/N: Yay, emotional ending! I realize this was kind of a pointless chapter, but it had to be here, so I'll make it up to you. :)

Thanks again to all my fabulous and dedicated reviewers for motivating me to write this story: Mrh99, ebonbon, wombat-of-awesomeness, HeyMisterCanWeHaveOurBallBack (I am in LOVE with that name, by the way!), BreadWinner, beverlie4055, snoopykid, XoxMountainGirlxoX, Lily Anne Rose, catpurple12464, and hulagal13. You guys are amazing!

Another thing: I decided to add chapter names because it was annoying me to see "Chapter 1" every time I read through my story. Creative OCD side coming through, here, people.

Sorry for the long update time, but sometimes you have to wait for the inspiration to strike. This is what I came up with, hope you liked it…now, you know the drill—click that little blue button down there and tell me what you think!

Love you all,

EPC 


	12. Moving Day

"So where are we going to move?" Ginny asked Harry the next morning. "One of the many houses you got left?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "To be honest, I haven't even bothered to keep track of them all. There are just too many."

Ginny laughed. "Where, then?"

Harry smiled mysteriously at her. "Well… I might have kept one thing secret from you. Remember how Ron and Hermione didn't get us a wedding gift?"

"Yes," she said slowly, somewhat confused.

"Well, they actually did—it just wasn't finished by the wedding."

It took Ginny a moment to process this. What did this have to do with them moving? Suddenly she felt a jolt of understanding.

"They bought us a house?" she exclaimed, looking up at Harry excitedly. "No way!"

He grinned and squeezed her hand. "Yes, way. Hermione was practically begging me to let her set everything up—it's all decorated and finished—and I think it's perfect."

"When can we go?"

"Now, if you want. We just have to get our stuff together and everything—"

"Well, let's not waste any time, then!" Ginny got up and hurried off into the bedroom, intent on packing everything as quickly as possible.

Harry laughed. "For a pregnant woman, you sure do move fast."

"I heard that!"

••••••••

Twenty minutes later, the couple was standing outside what had to be (in her opinion) the most amazing house Ginny had ever seen. It wasn't really a house so much as a cottage, but it was beautiful. The outside was painted a soft, creamy white color, with several large windows and roses trailing up the walls. There was a tiny, winding path of stepping stones leading to the front door.

"Whoa," Ginny breathed. "We're going to live here?"

"You haven't even gotten inside yet," Harry reminded her, taking her hand and leading her toward the front door. He took out his wand and directed it at the lock; the door swung open, and they stepped inside.

It was even better inside than out; Ginny made a mental note to tell Hermione that she was a genius the next time she saw her. Everything about the house was bright and open. You could see clear to the living room while you were standing in the kitchen.

The bedrooms were lined up at the back of the house at the end of a wide hallway with an arching ceiling. After having looked in the first three, all of which were fairly similar, the two of them turned into the fourth and stopped short.

"Bloody hell…" both of them said simultaneously.

The master bedroom was enormous considering the size of the house it was in. Everything was done in red and white, with lots of airy, open space, and double doors led from the bedroom to what Ginny was sure was a bathroom. But all of this registered in a very small part of her mind—the majority of her thoughts were focused on the bed.

She had no idea how a bed that size could even exist. Resembling the old four-posters back at Hogwarts, it was covered in kitten-soft white blankets and had a note with Hermione's neat cursive on it propped against the pillows.

"Dear Harry and Ginny—We hope you enjoy your new house and don't mind that Ron basically cleared out your refrigerator as soon as I had it stocked. —Hermione"

Underneath that, Ron had added to the note in his own loopy scrawl: "In my defense, I was hungry. —Ron"

"Typical Ron." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, he always was finished with dinner first growing up." Ginny turned to look at Harry, changing the subject. "You know what we need to do?"

"What?"

"Break in this bed," she said in a lower tone, trying more for sultry.

Harry's eyes turned the dark green color that she loved, and she knew she'd been successful. "Now?"

"Bloody hell, now!

••••••••

"Hey, Ginny?" Harry called from the entryway at breakfast the next day.

Ginny, who up until that point had been asleep, stirred tiredly and managed to sit up in bed with some difficulty. "What is it?"

"The news broke."

She sat bolt upright, all traces of her previous exhaustion suddenly nonexistent. "What? When?"

Harry came through the bedroom doorway, holding a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet. "This morning. Early edition."

He sat down on the bed beside her and handed her the paper; she unfurled it to reveal a picture of herself and Harry, walking hand in hand down the street, under the headline POTTER'S BABY?

"Bloody hell," Ginny moaned. "I should have known."

She looked down the page, found the article, and started to read.

"Harry Potter is a man of many names—the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the savior of the Wizarding world—but today, he might be on his way to a new name: father. Several eyewitnesses saw Mr. Potter leaving St. Mungo's on Saturday with his wife Ginny, former Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies. Could her abrupt departure from the team mean baby Potter is on the way?"

Ginny looked up, somewhat relieved. "That wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be."

Harry grinned at her. "That's what I thought, too."

"I love you, Harry."

"I love you more."

••••••••

A/N: I know, crappy update, but I'm in the middle of nowheresville for one of my brother's lacrosse tournaments. The next chapter will have something major for the plot, though, so bear with me here! Thanks for alerting and favoriting, guys—you rock!

That being said… review!

EPC 


	13. Reunion, Part One

It was still dark when Harry awoke. He had to go into work today—just for a few hours, Kingsley had promised him—but he still felt uncomfortable leaving Ginny alone. He had to tell himself several times over as he dressed and headed into the kitchen to make breakfast that she had her mother, brothers, and sisters to call if she needed someone in an emergency. And he could leave work in a hurry any time he had to.

After brushing his teeth at lightning speed, he went back into the bedroom and leaned down over Ginny's still-sleeping figure.

"Gin," he whispered, "I'm leaving."

Ginny stirred beneath him; blinking sleepily at him through half-closed eyes, she gave a small smile.

"Okay. I'll call you if I need you."

"You're sure you'll be okay on your own?" Harry asked.

"I'll be fine. You'd better hurry—you don't want to be late."

"All right." Harry stood back up. "I love you."

"I love you."

••••••••

Harry stepped into the Auror Office exactly twenty minutes later to find it already buzzing with activity. Slightly confused, he stepped over to his desk, unsure of what was happening. No one was ever in the office this early.

Before he could ask anyone what was going on, he heard someone calling his name.

"Harry!"

Harry glanced up to see Ron, looking as if he'd just rolled out of bed—his robes were on inside-out and the badge on his chest reading "Ron Weasley, Auror Office" was upside down.

"What're you doing in so early? You're never here before six-thirty!"

"I could say the same for you," Harry snorted, looking Ron up and down critically. "Have you looked in a mirror today?"

Ron glanced down at his outfit. "Oh, bloody hell."

"Anyway," Harry said, changing the subject, "what's going on? Why is the office so busy already?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Mandatory meeting for the whole Auror department. Apparently Robards needs to feel like he's doing his job, so he's going to call this meeting and ask us to 'tighten up a few things'."

"Wonderful. When do we have to be there?"

Ron checked the watch that Molly had given him for his seventeenth birthday. "Eight. We've got plenty of time to get some paperwork done or something."

"There's nothing I'd rather do than more paperwork," Harry said sarcastically as he turned and started to walk to his desk. Ron fell into step beside him.

When he reached his cubicle—right beside Ron's—he found the usual stack of parchment waiting for him. As he sat down and reached for his favorite eagle-feather quill, he noticed one of the interdepartmental memos laying beside the stack. Curious, he unfolded it and started to read.

"Harry," it read, "Lavender and Parvati wrote to tell me they want to have a Dumbledore's Army reunion. They need a venue and a date. Do you have any ideas? Talk it over with Ginny and let me know as soon as possible. Thanks—Hermione"

"A Dumbledore's Army reunion?" Harry muttered to Ron, dropping his voice as a group of trainee Aurors filed past his desk. "Ginny and Cho in the same place at the same time?"

"This ought to be interesting."

••••••••

"Hmm… a reunion? That's a good idea," Ginny said that evening. "Whose was it?"

"Hermione got an owl from Lavender and Parvati about it. They don't have anywhere to hold it, though, so they asked Hermione to get some ideas from other people."

Ginny stared off into space for a moment, lost in thought. When she snapped back and turned to Harry again, she wore a satisified expression.

"Well, Hannah runs the Leaky Cauldron now, doesn't she? What stops us from having it there?"

Harry thumped his hand onto the table. "Merlin, I'm an idiot. Why didn't we think of that?"

She laughed. "You aren't an idiot. Come on, let's go write Hannah."

••••••••

Exactly one week later, the two of them were standing outside the London entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. As usual, crowds of Muggles were rushing by, heads down, oblivious to the presence of the tiny inn.

Harry was just glad to have made it out of the house on time, as Ginny had started to reach the stage where her clothes had become a little tight. It had taken him a solid half an hour to convince her that yes, she looked beautiful in her dress, and yes, he would hex anyone who said otherwise. (Sometimes he had to wonder at the things she thought up—he resolved to ask Bill and Arthur for some advice on how to deal with it.)

As they stepped inside, Harry was struck by the elaborate decorations Hannah, with the help of Lavender and Parvati, had put up. Red, blue, and gold streamers were draped across the rafters, flickering lanterns hung around the room, and the whole place was polished to a gleaming shine. He had to admit, he was very impressed.

So was Ginny, too, by the looks of it; when he glanced over at her, she was grinning back at him. "Shall we?"

"Of course," said Harry, and they set off into the party together.

••••••••

A/N: I am so, so sorry for the length between updates, but my life has been absolutely crazy for the last week. I originally wanted to put the actual party in this chapter, but it's late at night, I'm E-X-H-A-U-S-T-E-D (can I stress it any more?) and I felt horrible about making you guys wait another two days for me to write the whole thing. So I gave you half, which on the bright side is better than nothing. Your reviews and favorites are amazing and very much appreciated! Thanks for putting up with my crazy life and supporting this story through the ups and downs. We're getting there, everyone! :)

To wombat-of-awesomeness: SPICY! :)

EPC 


	14. Reunion, Part Two

No sooner had Harry appeared in the midst of the bar, Ginny following close behind, than he was seized by the elbow and yanked against the wall. He had to blink several times to recover from the shock before the face in front of him swam into focus—it was a very eager-looking Neville Longbottom, his eyes looking several times too large for his face.

"Harry, when did you get here?" he asked excitedly—Harry was surprised he wasn't literally bouncing up and down like a five-year-old Dudley presented with a basket of candy.

"Just now—hey, Neville, I'm glad to see you too, but can you let me up?"

Neville seemed to realize what he was doing and immediately released Harry, his face coloring to a shade of red that would have rivaled Ron's famous blush. "Sorry, mate."

Harry laughed. "It's fine. Actually, I'm glad it was you who found me first."

"Wha—" Neville started to ask, before a look of recognition replaced the one of confusion. "Oh, Merlin, I bet it's been horrible."

Shaking his head, Harry replied, "No, because we haven't been out in public since the Daily Prophet made the announcement. Ginny tells me about fifty times a day that the only people we're going to see are family and friends—which includes Padma, of course."

"Yeah, I remember her telling me she got a job at St. Mungo's." Neville grinned. "Better her than some total stranger, right?"

"Exactly," Harry said, returning the smile.

"Well, congratulations anyway."

"Thanks." Eager to hear what Neville had been doing, he changed the subject. "So, how's life treating you?"

"Hogwarts is really great," Neville said, a gleam lighting up his eyes. "Oh, did I tell you about the Slytherin kid who thought it would be funny to set the Venomous Tentacula on me while I was trying to explain the Mandrakes?"

Harry groaned—it sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. "No, but I'm almost afraid to ask."

As Neville launched into the story, Harry let his eyes wander around the room as he searched for Ginny. He found her leaning against the back wall, deep in conversation with Susan and Luna, laughing at something the former Ravenclaw—who, Harry saw, was wearing the old radish earrings—had just said.

His slightly overprotective mind appeased by the knowledge that Ginny was fine, he turned back to his friend, eager to hear more.

••••••••

Half an hour had passed, by which time Harry had spoken to most of the people on the room, when the front door opened and Ron and Hermione walked in—windswept, covered in snow, and looking relieved at the prospect of a heated space. Harry immediately dropped his empty glass of Firewhiskey onto a tray placed on a side table and hurried toward his two best friends.

"Took you long enough," he joked, reaching to help Hermione extract herself from her scarf.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Please. She took about an hour drawing up this thing for today" —he reached into Hermione's bag and pulled out a thick stack of parchment— "and she insisted that we not leave until it was ready."

Harry looked incredulously at Hermione. "The great Hermione Weasley, leaving something until the last minute? I don't believe it."

"Hey!" Hermione exclaimed indignantly, snatching back the parchment from Ron. "What else did you expect to do at this party, other than get drunk and have 'manly bonding time'?"

Ron leaned over to Harry, grinning. "She is so adorable when she's mad."

Harry grinned back and whispered, "Hey, she's your wife."

As Hermione disappeared into the mass of people, Ron asked, "Speaking of wives, where's Ginny?"

"Someone say my name?" called a voice from behind them, and the two men wheeled around to see Ginny emerging from the crowd.

"Hey, you." Harry reached for her hand. "Did you see where Hermione got off to?"

"No…should I have?"

It was Ron who responded this time. "No, I'll go find her."

He hadn't gotten three steps away from them, however, when Hermione's voice rang through the bar. "May I have your attention, please?"

Harry turned on his heel, startled, to see Hermione standing between Hannah and Luna on a large, sturdy-looking table in the center of the room.

It was Luna who spoke next. "First of all, welcome to the first Dumbledore's Army reunion—thanks to Hannah for letting us use her bar—"

There was a polite round of applause, and Luna paused for a moment before going on. "While we were planning this party, Hermione had an idea to honor our pregnant women in attendance, Ginny and Angelina, by placing a bet with a high potential for embarrassment."

There was a moment of silence, during which Harry noticed that Ginny and Angelina had locked eyes—both of them very startled, by the looks of it—and simultaneously moaned, "Oh, no."

"The rules are simple," Hermione said. "In this packet, there are four pages. Two of the pages have Harry and Ginny on them, the other two say George and Angelina. Everyone gets a chance to sign, based on what gender you think their kids are going to be." She looked over at Harry, then toward George. "You don't know yet, right?"

Harry shook his head; George rolled his eyes and said, "I wish. It's a bit annoying when your wife insists on buying two of everything in pink and blue."

"Okay, then, parents sign too." Hermione bent to take the quill from Dean Thomas, who was closest to the table, and scribbled something on two of the pages before handing it to Hannah.

"Come up here, guys," Luna called, and Harry began weaving his way through the crowd to reach the table.

"There you go," said Hannah, handing the packet and quill to Harry. He flipped it open to see the first page, headed with "Harry and Ginny: Boy" and with Hermione's name signed underneath. He had to admit, he was curious—he had never given much thought as to what he wanted.

Then a beautiful image abruptly popped into his head: a picture of a baby girl with Ginny's red hair and brown eyes—her mother in miniature. Without hesitation, he flipped to the next page—"Harry and Ginny: Girl"—and scrawled "Harry" beneath the heading. As he passed the pages to Ginny, he found himself dwelling on that image.

It was a beautiful sight.

••••••••

The party was wrapping up a few hours later; everyone was shrugging into coats and jackets while Seamus and Lavender still pored over the betting sheets.

"Why'd you say 'girl' on both?" asked Seamus incredulously, turning to stare at Lavender.

She giggled. "Because it would be funny to see Harry or George with a daughter."

George, who was helping Angelina a little ways away, sent Seamus a mock glare.

Finally ready to leave, Harry and Ginny said their goodbyes and headed out into the dark, snow-filled street. They linked hands as they walked along under the soft yellow glow of the streetlights.

Harry felt a jolt of something strange in his stomach when he looked over at his wife. Was it anxiety, or pride, or a combination of both? He knew the next few months would be hard, but they would get through them together. Besides, they had been blessed with this wonderful gift.

And he sure as hell wasn't going to complain.

••••••••

A/N: Ho-ly crap, guys—thanks so much for the positive feedback on this story! Don't take this the wrong way, but I seriously love you. :)

Reviews are my drug, so please feel free to feed my addiction.

EPC 


	15. Blue

"Harry? Harry. Harry, wake up."

Harry tried to block out Ginny's insistent voice by burrowing his face deeper into his pillow. He had been having a very strange dream about Snape humming a somewhat familiar song, dressed in green slacks and a red Christmas sweater, as he watched Hermione draw colorful symbols—were they runes?—on Draco Malfoy's face and arms. For some reason, Fred and George were hovering over a cauldron that was simmering away on a corner table, while Ron stuffed his face with chocolate éclairs and muttered something about a "Cheese Spirit". Honestly, he had no idea what to make of it.

"Harry," said Ginny, her tone low and deadly, and the one word was enough. He sat up fast enough to set the room spinning and looked over at his wife, instantly worried.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, you prat. We need to get up—remember I have that Healer appointment today?"

Harry looked toward the windows to see that it was still dark. "What time is it?"

"Five-thirty," Ginny said absently, pulling back the blankets and sliding off the bed. She staggered slightly as she made her way over to the low dresser, pulled open a drawer, and began rifling through it. "If I don't have a better sense of equilibrium after this baby is born, I want a refund."

Harry laughed as he climbed off the bed after her, crossed over to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, sliding his hands gently over the now very noticeable curve of her stomach. "How would that be possible?"

"Very funny, you." Ginny turned and pressed a shirt and a pair of jeans to his chest. "Now get dressed before I have to hex you."

"Your own husband?" Harry pretended to look hurt.

"Try me," she teased, grinning as he touched two fingers to his forehead in mock salute and hurried off into the bathroom to change.

••••••••

"Remind me why this appointment is so early?" Harry yawned, slipping his hand into Ginny's as they walked down the street.

"Do you want your picture plastered all over the front page of the Daily Prophet again?"

"Even though it would be for a good thing?"

"Yeah, but this is ours—d'you know what I mean?" Harry could see his wife's brown eyes alight with the old fire, even in the early morning semi-darkness. "Those reporters have gone bloody insane if they think for one minute that we'll be perfectly content with gracing the front page every morning."

They stopped talking then, for they had reached the front of Purge and Dowse—the old dummies with their outdated fashions were still gathering dust, as was the sign that read CLOSED FOR REFURBISHMENT. Glancing surreptitiously around to ensure that no Muggles were paying particularly close attention to them—which they didn't seem to be—he tightened his grip on Ginny's hand, stepped through the glass and vanished.

As Harry had suspected, the lobby of St. Mungo's was empty—no surprise, considering the time—except for Padma, who was leaning against the wall, drinking coffee.

"Morning, you two," she said around the rim of her cup. "How are you?"

"Half-asleep," mumbled Harry.

"I know the feeling, trust me." Padma grinned, then turned and pushed open a door. "Come on. Today's an exciting appointment."

••••••••

"What do you mean by 'exciting'?" Ginny asked once they had been settled in a room.

"Well, today we can tell you what you're having," Padma said. "If you want."

Ginny sat up a little straighter. "Are you kidding?" She looked at Harry, who nodded. "We would like to know, yes."

"All right, then, here we go…" Padma whipped out her wand, and for a few moments there was silence in the room aside from the incantations the Healer was muttering under her breath.

Finally she straightened up. "Harry and Ginny, you are going to have a boy."

••••••••

A/N: OH MY GOD.

I am so, so, so beyond sorry for making you guys wait this long for such a short chapter. My life is insane, I leave on vacation in two days (hello, packing like crazy!) and to top it all off, I spent last Friday night in the hospital because they thought I might have to have my appendix out (which I ended up not having to do, thank God). Seriously, how does one tiny part of your body that doesn't do anything cause so much trouble?

Sorry, guys! I'll try my best to give you a longer chapter next time.

EPC 


	16. Fred Gideon Weasley II

**A/N: *gulps nervously***

Guys, please don't kill me.

I am going to say this one time: I'M SO, SO, SO, SO SORRY. Tons of stuff happened between my last update and this one: namely, school, Rick Riordan, school, John Green, school, Cassandra Clare...and did I mention school yet? Anyway, with so many different things going on, I just couldn't focus on Harry Potter that much. One thing led to another, and...it ended up with this story basically getting abandoned.

Then I got on my email the other day, and I saw someone else had reviewed this story. So I go to check the review number, right?

93.

My response: !

Then I saw the last update date on this story.

My response: OHMYGOD I NEED TO UPDATE THIS STORY RIGHT NOW I AM A DESPICABLE HUMAN BEING WHY DID I MAKE THEM WAIT SO LONG I SUCK OHMYGOD.

*clears throat* Again, I apologize for the super-long wait. I'm trying to get all my stories on an update schedule, finish my in-progress ones, then get back to my usual one-shots. (This may or may not work out, but I swear I'll try my hardest!)

So: without further ado, I present the very late chapter 16. Enjoy, and don't forget to review!

EPC

••••••••

Harry should have known his night was going to be extremely bloody strange when he heard Ron swearing in his kitchen at eleven o'clock.

There was a loud CLASH from the hallway, followed by an even louder "Bloody hell, Potter!" Harry jerked awake and glanced over at Ginny, who was still snoring away with her head buried under a pillow, and decided that he was going to have to go it alone. Snatching his wand off the bedside table, he groped blindly across the room and down the hall to the kitchen.

"_Lumos_," he muttered, and the lights flared on to reveal Ron sitting on the kitchen table, rubbing his foot and cursing under his breath.

"Oh, hello, mate," Ron grunted. "Glad to see you."

"Erm...well, it's good to see you too, Ron, but what exactly are you doing in my kitchen right now?"

"Well, I don't mean to scare you or anything, but it involves George and Angelina—"

"Oh, bloody effing hell. She's not having the baby, is she?"

Ron averted his eyes and gave a short nod.

"What?! But it's so early!"

"That's what George said—rather, what he yelled when he burst through the fireplace in my and Hermione's room about fifteen minutes ago. Mum and Dad are trying to round everyone up and get to St. Mungo's now, but it's kind of a pain in the arse. So I told them I'd help."

"Okay, then." Harry slid his wand into the waistband of his pajamas, thinking hard. "What do you need?"

"Well, is Ginny okay to go? I mean—"

"Oh, for Merlin's sakes, Ronald," said Ginny's voice from the doorway. "I'm pregnant, not bloody broken. Of course I'm okay—and if anyone says otherwise, to hell with it. This is my brother and my sister-in-law, after all. I want to be there."

Harry cracked a smile. "Exactly the kind of inspirational speech I'd expect from you, Gin."

"Shut up, Potter."

"Shutting."

"Okay!" Ron jumped off the table. "Meet you at St. Mungo's in half an hour."

"Hey, mate?"

Ron turned back to face Harry. "What?"

"Before you go, you might want to put your pants on the right way." Harry was barely surpressing a grin now.

He glanced down at his jeans. "Bloody hell."

••••••••

"Any news?" Harry asked when he stepped into the waiting room thirty minutes later. In an undertone to Ginny, he whispered, "Merlin, weren't we literally just here?"

His wife rolled her eyes. "I know."

It was Bill who answered Harry's question, bouncing Victoire up and down on his knee. "No change. I have a feeling we're going to be here for a while, though."

"Well, you're the parental expert, seeing as Mum and Dad aren't here yet, so we'll take your word for it," remarked Ron idly (he now had his pants on correctly, Harry was glad to see), and everyone laughed.

Hours passed. The Weasley-Potters—plus Mr. and Mrs. Johnson—sat in a circle, no one talking, no one moving. Victoire and Teddy were curled up next to one another on a chair, seeing how comfortable they could get without falling asleep. Harry stared at the clock on the wall, following time by the steady _tick, tock_. The minutes seemed to drag on like years.

Finally, the door at the end of the hall burst open, and George came running out. Everyone—including the other two families in the waiting room—went deadly silent, waiting with bated breath for his announcement.

"Angelina is fine," he said finally, "and—"

You could hear a pin drop now.

"—it's a boy," George finished. "He was born about forty-five minutes ago, and he's perfectly healthy."

The entire waiting room went up in cheers. Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Johnson were the first to reach George—hugging him, asking him too many questions to count. He finally had to hold up his hands for silence again.

"We've decided to name him Fred," George went on, "amd if anyone asks why that's what we've chosen, I'll take a Probity Probe and shove it up your—"

"_George_!"

"Only joking, Mum." His eyes lit up with that familiar mischievious twinkle. "And as godparents—we've already chosen those too, Ronald, _put your bloody hands down_—we picked Percy and Audrey."

Percy looked absolutely floored. "M-me? Really?"

George rolled his eyes, grinning at his older brother. "Yes, you, really. Unless you'd like me to pick this wanker of a Ron over here—"

"All right, I'm coming!" Percy shouted down the rest of George's sentence. He grabbed Audrey's hand and followed George through the door.

One by one, the others were allowed to come back and see Angelina and Fred. As Harry walked with George down the hall on his turn, he was surprised to see tears forming in the older man's eyes."

"George, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, it's just that…" He trailed off. When he looked back, there was a huge smile on his face. "Harry, I'm a dad."

Harry grinned. "Congratulations, mate."

"I don't know, I just always expected Fred to be here with me when this happened. But now that I ink of it, he's probably watching me from heaven somewhere and laughing about the fact that I'm so much older than he is now."

"Decrepit," Harry snorted.

"Indeed. And now, Mr. Harry Potter, I present to you…your nephew."

••••••••

"Oh, wow, guys. He's beautiful."

Harry was absolutely stunned. Fred's skin was the same creamy mocha shade as Angelina's, with a fringe of her same deep black hair, but his eyes were a vividly bright blue just like George's.

"He is, isn't he?" Angelina grinned tiredly up at Harry. "And don't start playing maid to me, Potter, because I am still your Quidditch captain and I can still make you do some pretty unpleasant things. That goes for you too, Mr. Weasley."

George shuddered. "Running laps up and down the hospital hallways? You can get your things yourself."

Angelina winked. "That's the spirit, dear."

Harry looked down at little Fred again, and something inexplicable rose up inside him. In just a few weeks, this would be him and Ginny…

He felt nervous, but also excited for the unknown to come.

••••••••

**A/N 2: So...good? Terrible? Like, makes-you-want-to-pitch-your-laptop-out-the-window terrible? Let me know!**

(Seriously, we're almost at a hundred reviews, people!)

EPC 


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